Reality Flux: Bolo and Digimon
by Shadow's Forge
Summary: Reality Flux! A soldier under the Royal Knight Magnamon is thrust into an alien universe, the universe of the Bolo. The term Heavy Metal is going to take on a whole new meaning.
1. Notes

_**REALITY FLUX: BOLO AND DIGIMON**_

by

Gregory P. Wong

* * *

**Notes**

* * *

To those curious about the "Reality Flux" event, it's a quantum anomaly that occurs in as-yet unfinished indepedent novel I'm working on. Of course, the origins of the Reality Flux are not entirely relevant to the story, just that it _does_ happen. 

Bolos are gigantic, heavily armed, sentient armored fighting machines, created by Keith Laumer.

Digimon, or "Digital Monsters", are a creation of Japan, and span cartoons, comics, toys, and games.

To those curious, the Digimon in this story come from the post-Tamers continuity featured in my other Digimon stories.

* * *

Bolo Mark XXXIV (Exultant) 

Length: 90 meters  
Width: 35-55 meters  
Height: 25 meters  
Tracks: 8 units  
Roadwheel height: 5 meters  
Mass: 28,000 tons  
Road/Road sprint/Contra-gravity sprint speed (kph): 105/200/500

Primary Armaments  
2 200cm Thermonuclear-Plasma Hellbores (5 megaton/second; 3 second cooldown)  
2 Plasma-Flux Hellrails (90 megatons/bolt; 1 minute cooldown)

Secondary Armaments  
12 20cm Hellbore Infinite Repeaters (0.45 megatons/second; 1.5 second cooldown)  
8 40cm Breech-Loading Mortars (yield varies; 5 second cooldown)  
Heavy 40-cell VLS system (yield varies; cooldown varies)

Tertiary Armaments  
Integrated Laser Anti-Personnel System (25 megajoule/second; 0.10 second cooldown)  
Integrated 50mm Gauss Gun Point-Defense System (yield varies; 0.01 cooldown)  
Integrated 155mm Railgun Close-In Weapon System (yield varies; 0.10 second cooldown)

Indirect fire capability: Strategic  
(Tactical indirect fire, in general, is only used on a limited battlefield; theater is used over a much larger span, such as continentally; strategic indirect fire can be used globally)


	2. Part I: Incoming

_**REALITY FLUX: BOLO AND DIGIMON**_

by

Gregory P. Wong

* * *

_The quantum anomaly that cast Victor Sherriton into different times and different realities was not just limited to his own universe. Rifts in space-time opened up in countless other places, sucking away denizens of one universe and depositing them in a different one. Fortunately for the involuntary travelers, the rifts were unlike Sherriton's unique anomaly in that they were short-lived. The individuals sucked into the event horizons were returned spontaneously after some time. _

_Yet, time was still spent in an alien continuity..._

* * *

**Part One: Incoming**

* * *

"What in..." Fla'drek said in surprise as a ball of blue-white fire flashed into existence in front of him as he polished his fiery armor. 

He was a Flamedramon, a soldier sworn to Lord Magnamon of the Thirteen Royal Knights. The Knights, the Great Dragons, the Digiworld Wardens, and the Three Celestials served as extensions of the will of the four Sovereigns, who had fallen into a deep slumber after fending off the terrible D-Reaper. Without the Sovereigns conscious, it had fallen to the groups to safeguard the Digital World from resurging evil Digimon.

Fla'drek was proud to serve Magnamon and what the Golden Knight stood for. He might not be the most powerful warrior, but he was proud of his bravery.

Yet, the Flamedramon felt petrified by the sight of that fireball.

It was no Digimon he had seen or heard of before, and certainly not some wretched thing that sought to disrupt the Digital World.

Fla'drek wasn't sure why he feared this thing. He felt that he should be surprised by the orb of flame, not terrified of it. It was almost as if every packet of techno-organic data that made up his body was screaming in animalistic fear of the thing.

Fla'drek finally found strength to move, and the Digimon rose to his feet, gripping his helmet. A part of his mind that was not paralyzed by terror told him to move slowly, lest he instigate the ball of fire to do something.

The Flamedramon was almost to the door of his quarters when everything flashed to white.

* * *

External input detected (unable to identify from flash records)  
Bolo Survival Center… Online  
Operation: Begin start-up  
Operation: Run full internal diagnostic  
Internal diagnostic complete (0.295 seconds)... Systems at 99.998 optimum  
Operation: Continue with activation process  
Master record... Booted  
Polymorphic arrays... Online  
Yes/No/Maybe trinary logic... Running  
Memory Banks... Open  
Bolo Personality Center… Online  
Hyperheuristic software... Active  
Unit entering Combat Readiness Status... Now 

_My systems suddenly come active again._

_I am Planetary Interdictor Unit 1072-JRD of the Dinochrome Brigade, "Jarrod" to my human comrades. I am a Mark XXXIV Bolo of the Line, over twenty-eight thousand tons of heavily armored intelligence, armed with weapons ranging from massive Hellbores, Hellrails and infinite repeaters to humble 25-megawatt APERS lasers and 50mm gauss guns. I am built for war against the enemies of humankind._

_I devote 0.087 seconds—a sluggish response time for me, indicating my "newly awake" state—to access my main memory banks._

_I am stationed on the human colony world of Esperanza—meaning "hope" in one of the many human dialects—that was thriving after the terrible genocide that was the Melconian-Human war. Esperanza was one of the few worlds that had brokered a truce, and later a firm alliance, with the dog-like Melconians._

_But in the terrible firestorm that had come before the cease-fire, my predecessor, Bolo Mark XXXIII of the Line KRN "Karen", had been grievously damaged by Melconian _Surtur_ heavy battle units. Fortunately, however, her core consciousness had survived, and she had agreed to have her psychotronic brain transferred to a secure facility in the outskirts of the sprawling capital city of Kilthwani, where she oversaw the modest planetary defense network._

_Unearthing schematics for the design of a Mark XXXIV—long hidden and still only in prototype stage—the military leaders of Esperanza had ordered my construction. However, the maintenance of a Bolo unit at full Combat Readiness Status was a strain on the budding colony's resources, so I was reverted to Standby Status, supplementing KRN's sensor network, which was still far from planet-wide. I was on the opposite side of the world from her, only eighteen kilometers from one of the large human-Melconian settlements, Los Santos._

_However, something out of the ordinary had been detected by my sensors. A burst of strange electromagnetic energy and quantum harmonic frequencies had flashed across my "sight" not forty kilometers from my bunker._

_I am curious. As I have yet to be assigned a human commanding officer—resources, including human ones, are still hard to come by, it seems—I will take matters into my own hands, as per Directive 32 Section 5 and my Rules of Engagement._

_I send a flash report through the communications network to KRN, and send orders to the bunker's armored bay doors, opening them. I bring my fusion reactors to 75 output and feed power to my drive trains._

_I roll forward on my treads to meet the anomaly.

* * *

_

Ooh, his _head_.

Fla'drek woke up and rubbed his aching skull. His landing would have been better if he had his damned helmet on. That spill felt like it had knocked him out for an hour or something.

Wait, why wasn't his helmet on?

Oh, right, he'd been polishing it. But why...

The memory came back to him. A ball of _something_ had been floating inches from his snout, and then everything had gone white.

Hmm... He'd expected to be _vaporized_ by that flash, not...

Actually, where _was_ he? Had he been transported from the barracks, or was he unconscious and dreaming? Or some other possibility?

The ache was fading. Good. He slipped his helmet back on. This was mostly likely not a dream world. He didn't have headaches in dreams, in any case. Ugh.

He should look around and see what this place was like. From what he saw it looked like he was in a big grassy field of some type. It looked like it was around noon, with the sun high in the sky, and the air was just a tiny bit too humid. Not a bad looking place.

There even might be locals who could tell him what in the world had just happened. Still, he doubted there would be any—

"Yah!" he yelped as the sky lit up with a white light.

* * *

_I detect more bursts of energy all over my field of sensor coverage._

_Something is very wrong._

_I bring my fusion reactors to full output and increase the power in my drive train, accelerating to my maximum track speed of 105 KPH. My duralloy-monocarbide treads bite into the grassy soil and I bring my weapon systems online._

_I must get to the bottom of this._

* * *

"_Fire Rocket_!" Fla'drek cried and sent a wave of fire at the trio of Vilemon that had suddenly popped into existence right next to him. Better yet, the Vilemon didn't seem disoriented at all, and acted like that would like nothing better than to eat his data.

He must be having a bad-luck day.

The evil Digimon gibbered and shifted out of the way of his attack. With a screech, the three enemies dove at him. He sprung to the left, delivering a powerful kick to the leader's stomach. The struck Vilemon yelped and flew back. The unfortunate Digimon's companions turned to look.

Mistake.

He drove forward and buried his gauntleted claws deep into the closer Champion. The Vilemon screeched and wriggled, so he put an end to it by ripping his claw down, eviscerating it.

The Vilemon dissolved into a shower of glowing data. The only uninjured Vilemon hooted and swiped at him with a claw.

He blocked the blow, grabbed the arm, and tossed the evil Digimon over his shoulder.

"_Fire Rocket_!" he roared, and fireballs flew to devour the flying Vilemon's face. Two down, one to—

"Uhhhn!" he gasped as something slammed into his back.

—go.

Blindsided. Damn.

Think, think... use the momentum from getting tackled to roll and regain balance...

"_Nightmare Shock_!"

"Aaah!" he cried out as a bolt of amethyst lightning slammed into him. And then...

"_Run_, _Fla_'_drek_, _run_!"

"_No_!"

_And then the Velgemon dipped its head down and ripped into his friend_'_s body_.

_As his friend lay dying_, _he saw the other Digimon stare right into his eyes_.

"_Fight it_, _Fla_'_drek_, _fight it_!"

"AAAaaahhh!" he bellowed, walloping the stunned Vilemon across the face. Gasping, he wiped moisture from his eyes.

Should've been prepared for that. He knew better, dammit. Nightmare Shock was also deadly in that it could paralyze the target with its deepest fears.

Or worst memories.

"_Fire ROCKET_!" he screamed, and blew the last Vilemon to data.

Gone... finally.

He sank to his knees. Tired, so tired.

He heard a rumble. He looked up.

By the Sovereigns.

As he watched, portals of white fire opened up all over the grassy field around him.

Out dropped mobs of Infermon, Musyamon, TyrantKabuterimon, Etemon, Puppetmon, Devimon... he lost count.

He was going to die.

He staggered back to his feet as a swarm of SkullGreymon rockets sailed towards him.

* * *

_I detect multiple missile launches. Immediately, I respond by firing a specialty missile from one of my vertical launch system tubes. Arcing overheard, the missile explodes, spreading Battlefield Intelligence Surveillance and Transmission drones into the air. The one-centimeter wide BIST drones, with their light weight and small solar-powered anti-grav generators, will stay aloft for up to forty-eight hours, giving me constant, instantaneous tactical data of the battlefield. I focus the drones on the incomings, supplementing my main sensor banks_

_My radar systems conclude that the projectiles are heading towards a single target, one that seems to have come from the signature that had woken me up. The missiles will impact in 4.11 seconds._

_I devote 0.275 seconds to a full spectrographic, multi-wavelength, variable energy, high-resolution scan of the projectiles, the signatures that my FireFinder counter-battery radar designates as the launchers, and the target._

_The results are interesting. The missiles themselves seem to be some kind of amalgamation of organic material, metal alloys, outdated chemical explosives, and some sort of independently derived electromagnetic data lattice. The first three are a bit surprising, but not startlingly so. The last, however, is an utter unknown. Each missile seems to have a "skeleton" at its core, which, when scanned and interpreted by my electronic brain, comes out as a complex form of computer coding._

_The missile launchers are similar in their lattice, but, physically, they appear to be made of calcium oxides reinforced with steel. They give off very little heat, and I cannot discern any kind of significant power source. By rights, these walking saurian skeletons should not be able to move under their own power._

_Yet they are. I must reevaluate my hypotheses._

_Even more strange, the other "species" of entities surrounding the missile launchers—over seven hundred already, with dozens more appearing every minute—are different, yet they have a distinct "flavor" to their strange coding which is identical to the missiles and skeletal launchers._

_The last to be scanned, the target, has a different tag in its coding. Visually, it appears to be a blue saurian-humanoid clad in flame-colored armor. The entity has three digits at the end of each arm, a tail, and digitigrade legs. I note that the armor is only a titanium alloy. Additionally, the armor appears, if nothing else, to be ornamental. While the forearms, thighs, feet, upper chest, and head seem reasonably protected by the metal, the lower abdomen, most of the arms, and neck of the entity remain wide open to fire. Biometric scans show that the creature has a reasonably orthodox warm-blood biology, though it seems to have a much higher internal heat than a creature of similar weight should have. However, as it is obviously some kind of alien, I cannot make a conclusion with the data I possess. I _can_ conclude, however, that the target will cease normal biological functions if those missiles impact. Unsatisfactory._

_I must take action._

_I lock the missiles with my targeting systems and eliminate them with rapid bursts of point-defense lasers and HE gauss slugs. Missile death signature is congruous with a one-ton warhead, which is much heavier than I had assumed._

_I make sure I do not target the launchers or the support units, as I have as little data of them as I do of the target. They may be allies._

_For all I know, these aliens have never heard of humans before. As there is no entry of them in my memory banks, I would assume so._

_However, Bolos are loath to "assume" anything. It could very well be that one side or the other could be allied with humans—we have yet to establish contact with any other colony world—and just be undetected._

_However, as my actions show, I must decide first before either side can be damaged._

_I activate my powerful speaker system._

"_I am Bolo of the Line 1072-JRD of the Esperanza Defense Force," I speak as I come within two hundred meters of the former target. "Who are you, and what is your business here?" As soon as that is out, I begin analyzing the response of the entities. If I detect confusion and incomprehension, I will try another language. In addition to all human dialects, I have extensive knowledge of all major alien languages that humankind has encountered, including Deng, Axorc, Soetti, Kezdai!!!, Malach, Aetryx, and, of course, Melconian. _

_The blue saurian jerks in surprise and turns to look at me._

"_You must help me! Get help!" the saurian cries out. "I'll..." the alien chokes. "I'll hold them off as long as I can!"_

_The alien speaks Terran Standard. Interesting. Its reaction piques my curiosity, though. Instead of fear—my massive warhull has a tendency to induce nervousness in biologicals that have never encountered my kind before—it gives me a _command_? I can make the reasonable assumption that the alien is willing to sacrifice its life so I can bring warnings. It is brave, at face value, and I feel a sense of kinship with this strange alien._

_However, I must look at both sides. I redirect my speakers so that I broadcast clearly to the other group of aliens._

"_Who are you?" I ask simply. "And what do you want?_

* * *

Fla'drek was confused. First the white fire, then the dark Digimon coming to strip off his skin, and now this massive _thing_ that had rolled up and had presumably stopped the Dark Shot rockets. It looked almost like a human tank, but much larger, more sophisticated-looking that any picture he'd seen. Plus, it talked. Even better, it talked in a faintly British accent.

Tanks weren't supposed to talk, British or otherwise. At least, back from where he was from they didn't. Did they? He'd never, you know, walked up to a tank and _asked_ it something.

One of the Zanbamon, probably the leader of the other Digimon that had popped up so far—all seven hundred?—stepped in front of the SkullGreymon that had tried to take him out.

"We are Digimon, servants of the true master of the Digital World!" the leader snarled. "This is an enemy of my master. Bar us not, and we will let you withdraw with your life."

Life? Hmm... maybe it wasn't a tank at all! It could be a new type of Digimon. Granted, an extremely odd Digimon, but a Digimon nonetheless.

Yet... no. Digimon had an innate sense to know if something else was a Digimon or not, if they concentrated hard enough. He was concentrating damned hard, and nothing, not even a flicker.

So what in earth—or off it—was it?

"Before I can consider your request, you must answer my query: what is your business here?"

Would it really "consider" something like that? Would that... moving _mountain_ leave him to die?

Probably. It sounded like the tank had something to protect, and wouldn't do anything as long as it didn't threaten "Esperanza", whatever that was. He looked back to the evil Mega.

"You answer _me_, you horrific mound of metal," the Zanbamon hissed. "What are _you_?"

"I already have," the tank replied with what sounded a lot like a sigh. "I am Bolo 1072-JRD, of the Esperanza Defense Force."

"Fah, you idiotic tin can," the Zanbamon spat. "That Flamedramon you've saved for the moment is fated to die, just like all those who do not follow our master."

"Does that include the humans and Melconians of this world?" There was almost a challenging tone in the tank's voice.

"Humans? Humans are a disease that prevent the Digital World from reaching its full glory! I will take great pleasure in personally executing any of those wretches that are infesting this place."

A hum from behind. Huh? He looked back. A _lot_ guns had suddenly just leveled on the Zanbamon and the others behind.

"I see," the tank said softly. "In that case, I must warn you that if you or any of your forces advance more than three meters towards myself or this Flamedramon, I will take action. This is not an idle threat."

"A human _computer_ giving us orders? I will have great pleasure in ripping your circuits out!" he heard the viral Mega scream.

Then the Zanbamon spurred it horse-half forward. The other evil Digimon followed.

He tensed. Digimon were susceptible to human weapons—Puppetmon wouldn't like napalm, Vilemon wouldn't like machine guns, and Numemon wouldn't like French chefs, for starters—and could be killed easily enough, considering heavy enough weapons were used. In this case, though, there were _hundreds_ of them. No tank could hold off that many.

"Go and warn the humans!" he snapped at the tank. "I'll hold them off. Get going!"

There. That was it. He was going to _maybe_ make a scratch on the Zanbamon, but it was a Champion versus a Mega.

Well, he was dying to protect innocents. It was a worthy death. At least he would make Lord Magnamon proud—

"I am a Bolo. Bolos do not run away."

"There's too many of them! You can't—"

And then the world exploded.

* * *

_I open fire with my lateral batteries of 20cm Hellbore infinite repeaters. In the breach of the weapon, a metal-encased slug of frozen hydrogen is snatched up by dozens of powerful electromagnets, propelled towards the muzzle of my Hellbore at eighty-percent lightspeed. The fierce acceleration induces a fusion reaction in the hydrogen._

_The resulting thermonuclear plasma is herded along and contained by the electromagnets in the bore as high-powered targeting laser in the barrel flash, creating temporary vacuums in the atmosphere to prevent thermal bloom._

_Then the bolt of thermonuclear force exits the barrel at a high percentage of lightspeed. The infinite repeater bolts deliver the energy equivalent of four hundred-fifty thousand tons of TNT._

_This means that thermal ground effects and possible shrapnel would cause fatal damage to this "Flamedramon" that I have rescued. Unacceptable._

_I make sure I target the middle of the ranks of "Digimon" so that the mass of bodies will reduce the flashback effect on the Flamedramon. For the skeleton-rider and those immediately behind, I target them with anti-personnel laser banks, gauss guns, railguns, and all ten of my 40cm breech-loading mortars configured to fire airburst bombs._

_I take note as a burst of gauss flechettes tear into a leather-clad, emaciated humanoid with bat-like wings and long arms. The Digimon does not even have time to scream as it dies._

_Odd. The target—and pieces of the target—dissolves into glowing motes. I focus sensors on the cloud of red points, and I am surprised to discover that the cloud has the same electronic signature as the lattice of the Digimon, though it is chaotic and quickly fading._

_It appears that Digimon are somehow physical manifestations of electronic data. It would seem that Digimon provides a lattice, and somehow matter is molded onto that skeleton, giving them form._

_I have enough data. I file a Verified Situation Report to KRN and Esperanza Defense Command. I will let the disembodied Bolo and my human commanders decipher my data._

_At hand I have matters to attend to. I detect over three hundred missile launches as soon as my repeater bolts slam into the middle of the mob. My point-defense subsystem repurposes several of my gauss guns and lasers to anti-missile defense. A quick, 0.004-second recalculation also repurposes my four forward-most infinite repeaters._

_I swat down dozens of missiles in a single second. The rockets might be fast to human senses, but they are laughable to my nanosecond reactions and computer precision. In fact, I would label them to be grossly substandard to even most twenty-first century earth missiles._

_Inferior as they are, there are still several hundred more to deal with._

_And I still have the Flamedramon to screen._

* * *

Unit KRN—"Karen"—studied the data intently. JRD had warned her of the unknowns approximately 612.7 seconds ago, after the detection of the initial anomaly. Now, with JRD's detailed VSR, she could get a good look at these "Digimon."

Hmm... interesting. It seemed that one, the saurian-humanoid that JRD had designated "Flamedramon", was not an enemy. It did not make the entity an ally, per se, but hopefully that could be resolved easily enough. This lattice data JRD had collected was extraordinarily interesting, though. In some ways, the technology to accomplish this feat must be formidable, but field data collected showed that the Digimon were not overtly displaying any sort of technological superiority. She would like a sample of the enemy, but, apparently, they were dissolving at the moment of—

Alert!

Her sensors strung out over the city and outlying lands detected quantum anomalies congruous with the arrival signatures of the Digimon. As only hostile Digimon had so far made appearances, it would follow that the newly arriving entities would be enemies.

She engaged her own Battle Readiness Status. She no longer had a Bolo chassis, but she _did_ have a chassis of sorts.

Time for Phase One.

Immediately, her underground bunker locked down, duralloy armor, duracrete barriers, and battlescreen shield generators projecting out to transform the structure into a fortress of metal and energy screens. Bunkers and turrets popped out from underground and extended 25cm and 50cm Hellbores, laser cannons, gauss guns, missile arrays, 120cm howitzers, and mortar tubes. Hovering reconnaissance probes, BIST drones, and orbital surveillance platforms focused around her, providing her with real-time strategic and tactical input.

At the same time, she sounded a warning to Kilthwani officials and military personnel and began to fortify the town as ordered by Standing Directive 32. SD 32 stated that Bolos—and Bolo-derived units, as was her new "class"—could take autonomous control of city defenses as long as they filed VSRs and were not contradicted by high command.

An affirmative came back from Esperanza Defense Command. EDC advised that they were scrambling militia and regular army forces.

Excellent. Phase Two

Along the borders of Kilthwani duralloy-reinforced bunkers sprang up, each bristling with weapons similar to her own. Missiles laden with BIST drones sprang into the sky, covering it with recon drones. Sensor arrays all over the city were activated, and she fed opening commands to underground bays where the battle drones were stored.

Done. Phase Three.

She extended her consciousness to the Dragon-II hover drones and Wyvern-II aerial units and took control of them. The improved drones were simply upgraded versions of the ones she'd once used when she had had a XXXIII chassis. A simple thing to operate them.

Thirty Dragons hummed along the streets towards the city borders and twenty-four Wyverns took to the sky. The former were fifty-ton battle units with maximum speeds of 200 kph and armed with 65cm Hellbores, while the latter wielded multipurpose missiles and 15-megawatt lasers. Good, now she had her fast response assets online.

Phase Four.

She took temporary control of the public address systems and radio stations and advised the civilians to barricade themselves in their homes. She didn't disclose the full nature of the enemy, but she did mention that fighting might be heavy.

EDC contacted, telling her that human Komodo main battle tanks, Artemis mobile artillery, and Valkyrie attack fighters were deployed, as well as Melconian heavy _Garm-_type assault units, _Skoll_-class medium scout units, and _Loki_-class tank destroyers. _Garm_s and _Skoll_s were essentially small Bolos, and the Melconian people were fiercely proud of them. She greatly respected them herself. With some minor enhancements from human cybernetics, the Melconian units were top-notch skirmishing and fast-attack units.

Infantry, human and Melconian, were already suiting up and boarding APCs and IFVs.

Kilthwani was as secure as she could make it, which was secure indeed.

She was worried, however, about the outlying settlements. She dispatched half of her Dragons to escort civilians to the heavily defended city.

However, the farthest settlements—including large Los Santos and the satellite towns—were not as heavily reinforced as she would like. Furthermore, the militia forces on the other side of the world were not as developed as the principle city.

Still, JRD was there, and she trusted JRD. A Bolo Mark XXXIV was formidable indeed, and she knew JRD would defend the people under his wing.

However, there was time to think of that later. She had to coordinate with EDC and plan defensive strategies.

She sent a message to JRD, wishing the other Bolo good luck.

* * *

"Hey, Kiwi, what happened?" eight-year-old Cielana Angelo asked her friend in puzzlement. Kiwi might know why the weird metal tower thing had popped up in the field near the play equipment.

Her best friend was a Melconian, which meant she looked like a really big puppy that was standing on its hind legs. Kiwi had this really nice fur that was this really cool tawny color. She wished her hair looked like that, not the reddish-brown that she had, even though Mommy said it looked really good.

Kiwi—actually, her name wasn't Kiwi, it was Kiweedhar Na-halik, but Kiwi was easier to say—shook her head.

"I don't know," Kiwi said to her in Melconian. Mommy and Daddy had made sure she could understand Melconian, even though she couldn't speak it well yet. It was good that she could understand though, since being Kiwi's best friend would be hard if she couldn't. "I think we should go home."

"Yeah, I think so. You can come to my house and call your parents."

"Thanks, Cee"

"You're welcome."

They left the park they'd been playing at—Robert Salinas wasn't there to bully them today—and went off for home. Hopefully Mommy or Daddy knew what was going on.

Almost there!

"Come on, Kiwi!"

"I'm running already, Cee," she heard her friend grumble.

She laughed and opened the front door. "Mommy! This weird tower thingy popped up in the park and Kiwi's here to call her Mommy and Daddy."

"Cee!" Mommy said as she came into the living room. "I sent your father to find you! Get down into the basement, now! Kiwi, you too. I already called your parents."

"What's happening, Mrs. Angelo?" she heard Kiwi ask politely.

She giggled. Kiwi always mispronounced her last name. It sounded like "ankle" combined with a sneeze.

"Don't worry, just go into the basement."

"Ah, but it smells funny down—" she started to say to Mommy.

"Cielana Martina Angelo! _Now_!"

Mommy only used her full name when she was mad, but she didn't look mad.

She looked scared.

* * *

Fla'drek wondered if he should help out. It seemed impossible, but not a single Dark Shot missile had made it within one hundred feet of JRD. Plus its other guns were making short work of the dark Digimon.

Except that more and more kept on teleporting in. It even looked like the rate of teleports was _increasing_.

Flash, off to the left! A Musyamon, close!

"I got this one," he called to JRD, and lunged forward.

The sword-wielding Virus struck out with an overhead bash with its sword. It would have cut him in two pieces.

Except he had jumped _over_ the enemy.

"_Fire Rocket_!"

The Musyamon's head almost bouncing twice before it dissolved with the rest of the body.

"You, Flamedramon," he heard the voice of the tank call to him. "Hurry and enter my warhull. I will lower my battlescreens and extend a ramp at my rear. Quickly, please."

First being tossed into this world, facing hordes of dark Digimon, a talking tank, and now he was going _into_ the talking tank.

Life was full of surprises.

* * *

_Indeed, life can be surprising. The friendly Digimon dashes to my rear access ramp and climbs aboard._

_This is a calculated risk I am taking. I am still not completely sure of where this Flamedramon's loyalties lie, so I could have potentially let an enemy into my hull. Still, I have internal security lasers, just in case._

_Despite the lack of sure data, I _feel_ like I have nothing to fear from this Digimon._

_I suppose one can call it intuition._

_In any case, without the need to protect the Flamedramon, I can regain full mobility and make my way back to Los Santos. I feed full power to my drive trains, accelerating to one-oh-five KPH, and I launch missiles with area-denial warheads behind me. The missiles will scatter a dense pattern of anti-personnel mines, which will hinder the enemy Digimon for some time._

_As soon as I confirm missile detonation and mine scattering, I power down my weapons and redirect the energy to my impellor "sprint" field. While I am unarmed and naked in this mode, I more than triple my speed. I advise the Digimon in my hull to seat himself in the acceleration couches in my passenger compartment. It is most fortunate that my builders deviated slightly from the original XXXIV plans to add the four-person compartment. The Flamedramon nods and enters the room. He sits, and I explain how to attach the restraint harnesses correctly. That done, I speed off towards Los Santos._

* * *

"So, uh, you're JRD?" Fla'drek asked. He suddenly felt like talking. It probably was a reaction from the, oh, dozen near-death experiences he had had back there.

"That is correct. I am a Planetary Interdictor Bolo Mark XXXIV _Exultant_, 1072-JRD of the Line. Most humans opt to call me Jarrod."

A talking tank with a nickname? Now he'd seen everything. "Uh, okay. By the way, I'm not just 'You, Flamedramon.' I have a name."

"It being?"

"Fla'drek."

"Very well. I will refer to you as Fla'drek."

"Thanks."

"You are welcome."

Silence for a bit. He used the moment to look around. For all the "Bolo's" hugeness, it lacked in passenger comfort. Then again, Bolos didn't look like they were made to carry passengers. They looked built for combat, nothing else.

Hmm, now that he thought about it, he _still_ didn't know much about the Bolo. _Probably_ it was a robot of some kind—it referred to itself in the first person—but there might be a human driving this thing. No harm in asking, right?

"Jarrod?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have a driver?"

"I myself am a collection of hyperheuristic thought processes on a massively parallel polymorphic array that utilizes molecular virtual psychotronic circuitry. Bolos above the Mark XXIV are fully autonomous—though many argue that the Mark XXs were capable of full autonomy if their inhibition-programming had been removed—and require no additional human contact. However, it has been proven that Bolos with human commanders are much more effective in combat, so just like all other known Bolos, I have provisions for a human commander in my primary command center. I have yet to be assigned a commander, due to logistical issue."

In short, the tank meant "no." Well, it made sense, though he had no idea what the Bolo had first said. Hyper-hunky whatsit?

"Uh, right," he said. "So, just so I could clarify, you've never heard of Digimon before?"

"That is correct."

"I'm not the most experienced warrior, but I could give you info on the Digimon that were chasing us."

"I would appreciate that data, Fla'drek. Please hold a moment, I have detected enemy units in front of me, between myself and Los Santos. I will be touching down and activating my weapons systems."

He waited. He heard a couple of thumps, but that was it. When was the Bolo going to fire?

"Uh, Jarrod, you do anything yet?"

"I have eliminated nine enemy aerial units with my secondary batteries."

"That was fast," he muttered.

"I run at nanosecond speeds. Swiftness is necessary on the battlefield."

"Er, okay." Hmm, nine aerial enemies? "Jarrod, you have pictures of the Digimon you shot down?"

"I do. I would appreciate your tactical input on the enemies. Displaying visuals on the viewscreen in front of you now."

"Hmm... The three bird-like things are Velgemon, virus-attributes at, oh, strong Champion strength. The orange snake with wings and arms is a Megadramon, a Cyborg-type Ultimate, also a virus. The two big bugs are Ultimate-level Okuwamon. The last three look like Devidramon."

"What do their designations mean?"

"Designations?"

"Ultimate, Champion, virus, and so forth."

"Oh, I'd better explain that."

"I have detected multiple forces closing on Los Santos from the outlying lands, and I am moving to engage. You have plenty of time."

* * *

_Fla'drek's data is very interesting. The concept of distinct power levels among the enemies—Rookie, Champion, Ultimate, Mega—will prove strategically useful._

_Fla'drek speaks of Digimon existing in some parallel "Digital World" alongside the one of humans—he makes special references to humans named Takato Matsuki, Rika Nonaka, Jeri Katou, Ryo Akiyama, and Henry Wong, as well as Digimon named Guilmon, Renamon, Calumon, Cyberdramon, Terriermon, Impmon, and the Sovereigns._

_The datum on the humans, who all appear to be Japanese, is puzzling. Before the great diaspora of space exploration, Japan had become a major player in world politics, and I cannot imagine them keeping it a secret. Disturbingly, Fla'drek also mentions a world-wide event involving something called the "D-Reaper"... yet there is not mention of it in any of my databanks._

_The etymological origins of the Digimon's names are enlightening, however. Terrier is a type of dog, and "Beelze" is a possible corruption of "Beelzebub", or the Devil. Rena is possibly a shortening for "renard" the French word for fox, and "cyberdra" is a corruption of cybernetic dragon. I have no idea what a "Calu" is, though._

_This new data reinforces my initial hypotheses, that these Digimon are physical manifestations of data. They are possibly assigned their names based on what data they are based on._

_However, I will let KRN explore my data when she has the time. I copy all acquired data to a VSR and file it to Unit KRN and the EDC._

_I am receiving an alert._

_Enemy Digimon have begun to advance on Los Santos. Reports from picket militia units tell me that the human and Melconian defenders are hard pressed to hold back the crush of hostiles. Human and Melconian armor elements are initiating sorties, but they are having trouble making any headway_

_The intelligence assets at my disposal tell me that there are over sixty-five hundred of them, with more appearing every second. The eastern barricade of Los Santos is in danger of falling_

_I will need to withdraw to the city and assist in the direct defense. Bolos are made to be mobile battle units, not fortresses. However, I can see no alternative.

* * *

_

"Mommy, I'm hearing big booms and everything," Cielana said. It was scary to listen to.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. Some bad men have come to Esperanza, but Jarrod and Karen and the soldiers will defend us.

"Oh, the Bolo is going to help?"

"Of course he is, honey," she heard Daddy say tiredly. What was even more scary was that Daddy and Mommy were holding big guns. They only used guns when they hunted or shot the ant-rats that were eating their stores, and they weren't hunting or shooting ant-rats.

"Mr. Angelo?" Kiwi asked. She giggled. Ankle-Sneeze. "Will Jarrod be able to defend—"

_Crash_!

The floor near the stairs fell down, and something that looked like a metal monkey with sunglasses dropped to the basement floor, along with these funny-looking ghosts with pointy hats.

"Run, kids, _RUN_!" Daddy yelled and fired the gun. One of the ghosts flew back and turned into a poof of red sparkles. Mommy also shot the gun, and another ghost poofed.

But the monkey moved really fast and punched Daddy and then Mommy in the face. Mommy and Daddy groaned and fell down.

The monkey looked at her and Kiwi. "Come here, brats. I wanna kill you all at the same time."

She took Kiwi's paw and ran deeper into the basement, where there was another set of stairs to the surface.

The monkey was chasing them.

* * *

Fla'drek was getting tired of watching the Bolo chase around the enemy. He was supposed to be a fighter not a... a _passenger_.

Jarrod had rather kindly left a couple viewscreens on, so it looked like they were fighting around the city perimeter.

It also looked like dark Digimon were leaking through.

"Let me out," he said to the Bolo. "Let me help."

"I will not. You are still essentially a strange alien, and it will be confusing for the defenders to have a friendly to watch out for."

"I'll take that chance."

"Your addition to the defense will not be sufficient."

Not sufficient? Why that—

Oh, never mind. The Bolo was as long as an American football field and had more guns than Lady Crusadermon had flowering plants. It was just a question of comparison. Still, though...

"Watch me," he growled. "And the longer we argue, the most lives I could have saved are being lost."

"You would risk your life for strangers?"

"Innocents are innocents."

Brief pause.

"Very well. I have sent tactical updates to all units in the area, warning them not to fire one you. However, I cannot make any promise that the infantry will not mistake you for an enemy and attempt to engage."

"I'll take the risk," he said.

"Very well. I will approach the western end of the city, and I will allow you to disembark."

"Thanks."

"You are welcome. Godspeed."


	3. Part II: Warriors

_**REALITY FLUX: BOLO AND DIGIMON**_

by

Gregory P. Wong

* * *

**Part Two: Warriors**

* * *

_I allow the Flamedramon to leave through my rear access hatch. As soon as the Digimon departs, I raise my battlescreens and again enter combat mode._

_Unit KRN reports that urban fighting is relatively light, and that I should concentrate on forces attempting to enter the city. KRN's drones are supplementing the militia forces, and should hold as long as no more mobs of sufficient numbers breach the perimeter._

_BIST data indicates that the hostile Digimon force has consolidated outside the northern perimeter of the city. Numbers are in excess of fifteen thousand, with the vast bulk Champion-level and less. However, there are still enough higher-order Digimon to make things problematic._

_However, it is a better focus of my abilities to engage the main force. In the field I can take full advantage of my tactical knowledge, mobility, and weapons without fear of causing collateral damage to the civilian infrastructure._

_It is time._

_Using data from my BIST units and long-range radar clusters, I release a heavy salvo of missiles from my vertical launch system tubes, followed by a curtain of steel from my BL mortars. The missiles are loaded with dual-purpose improved conventional munitions while my mortar shells are fitted with proximity fuses._

_My dumbfired mortars arc into the air to their apogee and plummet, detonating while still ten meters in the air, sending a circular pattern of razor-sharp shrapnel to scythe into the marshaling Digimon. My DPICM missiles activate a second later, each primary charge sending out three hundred-fifty baseball-sized submunitions that were a core of high explosives wrapped with white phosphorous and notched wire._

_However, by the time my first barrage of mortar shells had reached their summit, I had already launched another salvo of VL missiles and mortars._

_My treads are fully powered, sending twin rooster tails of torn earth into the air behind me as I close with the Digimon._

_I consider channeling some power to my plasma-flux Hellrail cannons, but I discard the thought. Units of my mark, unlike the Mark XXXIII _Planetary_ Siege Units, are Planetary _Interdictor_ Units, which means our capabilities are stressed to interdicting and engaging starships from the planetary surface._

_While Mark XXXIIIs, who are orientated to direct planetary assault, have three independently-turreted 200cm Hellbores and four 240cm howitzers as primary armament, I have only two Hellbores and no howitzers at all. However, because of my design, my anti-orbital capability is far superior. In addition to my two 200cm Hellbores—which can strike and eliminate ships in orbit—my two Hellrails can engage starships far from orbital ranges. If I was on Earth, each 90-megaton thermonuclear Hellrail bolt could devastate targets on the Moon._

_My designers had not considered the possibility of an enemy getting past my Hellrails and "landing" troops on the planet. Of course, I cannot fault the designers for not considering Digimon and quantum gates._

_They had caught everyone by surprise._

_My fourth barrage of mortars and missiles slam into the enemy, and I am within range of my direct-fire batteries. My twin 200cm Hellbores thunder, sending slivers of a star's heart straight into the ranks of the hostile Digimon. Dozens, _hundreds_ perish from the thermonuclear hammers, yet there are hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds more._

_Enemy missiles barrel into the air, and I swat them down with infinite repeaters and point defense, or confound their targeting systems with ECM._

_My main guns complete the 3-second recycle, and I fire again, tearing apart a knot of SkullGreymon that were readying their rockets. I fire twice more, turning sharply to port to give the six 20cm infinite repeaters on that side a clear field of fire._

_I subject the Digimon to exactly 24.5 seconds of primary and secondary battery fire, whereupon I disengage and speed away from them._

_I note, to my satisfaction, that the bulk of the enemy is in hot pursuit. At 105 KPH I can outrun most of the ground elements, but the airborne Digimon can keep up with me. However, I cannot allow myself to widen the gap with the ground forces too much, since they might lose interest in me and again make their way back to the city assaults. I will be playing a dangerous game with the main Digimon assault force, since I must remain in relatively close contact with it to hold its interest. I calculate to 97.7 surety that my indirect fire ammunition will be insufficient to neutralize the enemy should they disengage and redirect their efforts to the city._

_Enemy alert._

_I focus my visual sensors skyward, and note that a collection of enemies—designated Megadramon, Gigadramon, GranKuwagamon, Velgemon, and NeoDevimon—are closing in on me. The other species of aerial attackers are not able to keep up with my drive trains, but the ones that do number over twelve hundred._

_Thankfully, they are relatively fragile. Each infinite repeater bolt blows a half dozen of them to chaotic electromagnetic data, while my main guns neutralize five times that._

_I detect missile launch, and I match the sensor data to Fla'drek's intelligence. I have been targeted by Darkside Attack missiles._

_These missiles are superior to the semiorganic SkullGreymon rockets, and there are hundreds of them. I kill two hundred thirty-four missiles, but one hundred make it past. Half of those defeat my evasive maneuvers and ECM blanket and strike my battlescreens. My energy shields flare in a brilliant lightshow but hold out against the assault. I retaliate with a flight of Icehawk anti-fighter missiles and a sustained Hellbore volley. A hundred more aerial attackers are blasted from existence._

_To my chagrin, my sensors detect multiple energy signatures from the other Digimon that have managed to keep up. More attacks._

_My screens hold out against the assault for approximately 7.89 seconds before failing, at which point my reactive armor appliqués and endurachrome plating take the energy assault. Damage sensors blare pain signals to my sophisticated brain._

_Again, each attack is negligible—attacks range from low kilowatt to multi-megawatt energies—in its individual power, but sheer numbers make them very dangerous._

_I turn sharply, throwing off the aim of the attackers, and reply with my own weapons. More enemy Digimon are incinerated by thermonuclear plasma. The airborne Digimon pursue me doggedly_

_I continue my loop and again head back towards the main swarm of Digimon, noting that the lead enemies are lesser Champions and Rookies. I can deduce my enemy's plans: he seeks to screen the more powerful Ultimates and Megas from my direct fire and engulf me._

_I cannot allow that._

_I engage my mortars as soon as I am within their maximum range of 9.5 kilometers. This time, however, the shells are loaded with a smoke-producing agent while the second volley contains phosphorous flares and chaff. The mortar rounds detonate and release thick clouds of obscuring haze, followed by intense white flashes and sprays of metal bits._

_As soon as I deem the distraction ready, I swerve to my right and cut an oblique angle towards the main force._

_The chaotic pulses of energy and projectiles flying towards where I _should_ have been tell me that my disorientating tactic worked._

_I withhold my fire until I am running parallel to the army. At a bare seven hundred meters I open up with all available weapon systems. Waves of destruction annihilate hundreds of Digimon._

_I peel off again, leading on the enemy on with repeated bursts from my main cannons and infinite repeaters._

_I have shaved another chunk from the enemy force. I will have to continue with my hit-and-run tactics until I have reduced their numbers enough for me to initiate a sustained engagement._

_It will be difficult, but I am confidant in success._

* * *

The shiny monkey with sunglasses was still chasing Cielana and Kiwi.

The monkey was big and scary, and he wanted to hurt her and Kiwi. The monkey and his friends were probably the ones who were making Karen and Jarrod fight.

They were running through the streets ducking into alleyways and stuff to make sure the monkey didn't catch them. Sometimes soldiers fired guns at the scary animal, but the bullets made pinging sounds and didn't hurt the monkey. More soldiers could have stopped the monkey, but they were too busy fighting all kinds of different animals. One looked like a fat purple spider with one big eye, and another looked like a cuddly teddy bear with a cape, except it was big and ugly and scary and wasn't cuddly at all.

"Stop running, you little bugs," she heard the monkey yell from somewhere behind them. "I'll make sure it won't even hurt for long."

She kept running.

It was good that she and Kiwi played around the area a lot, and knew a lot of shortcuts.

"I'm gonna getcha, you little brats!" she heard the monkey scream.

But they still had to run _very_ fast. She pulled on Kiwi's paw and ran faster.

Fla'drek heard screams coming from inside one of the houses. He ran faster.

There were gunshots. Doors weren't open... guess it was time for something drastic.

He dove through one of the front windows, keeping claws up so his gauntlets deflected the shattered glass. He looked around.

Hmm, the upholstery would be expensive to repair.

Screams, coming from a hallway to the right.

He dashed to the hallway, and heard scuffling sounds coming from inside one of the doorways. It looked like the door had been kicked down... violently.

Inside was... oh, _again_!?

He was really, _really_ sick of Vilemon. He pounced on the one closest to the door, which was grappling with a young woman, and snapped its neck. The body stayed around for a few seconds before it started to dissolve.

The other Vilemon turned to look at him. Luckily, the man it had been trying to bite used that moment to level a handgun at its head and shoot it.

"Are you people—" he began.

The man was pointing the pistol at him. Uh...

"I don't know who you are or what you want, but get out _now_," the man hissed.

"Right away," he muttered. He raised his claws in what, hopefully, was a non-threatening gesture and left the room.

It sounded like the woman was sobbing.

Well, he couldn't really blame the man. These human didn't know the difference between good and evil Digimon, so he didn't hold it against him.

He also didn't get shot, so there was that.

He left the house.

"The more you run, the more hurt you're gonna get!" he heard a voice bellow with rage from a short distance away.

And then he heard screams from what sounded like... little girls? Argh.

But, damnation, he had no idea where to go! The sounds had come from somewhere to the left, but the only thing he saw in that direction was a solid wall of buildings. Hmm... well, the buildings weren't _too_ tall.

He leaped toward the wall and dug claws into the material.

Uhn, it felt like tough concrete. Claws were going to be smarting for a while after this. He flexed his arms and propelled himself to the top of the building.

Good thing these human built with flat roofs.

Now, he had a good view of the immediate area. From up here, he could see barricades here and there where human and people that looked like a walking dogs were holding off the dark Digimon. The Bolo had mentioned Melconians, so he guessed that's what they looked like. Over to the west a bit more were an assorted group of tracked vehicles that bristled with guns and hovering tanks. To the east of him was—

There. He saw them. A little human girl and a small Melconian—female? He couldn't tell gender with the aliens—were running. They looked panicked, too. He wondered what was chasing... them...

Oh, by the Sovereigns.

It was a MetalEtemon. A _Mega_ level MetalEtemon. Those things were difficult to kill, or so he'd heard, because they were literally covered from head to toe with chrome Digizoid. A strong attack could breach the armor, as well as a weapon that was also made of Digizoid but... he didn't have any of those. He was a Champion with titanium armor.

And then he saw the little Melconian trip over something. The two children tumbled to the ground.

The MetalEtemon...!

* * *

"Kiwi!" Cielana cried as she watched her best friend tip and fall.

"Help me, Cee!" the Melconian pup shrieked fearfully.

The shiny monkey was... where did the monkey go? Did they lose it?

And then something grabbed her by the back of her shirt. Eek!

"_CEE_!" she heard Kiwi scream.

She looked behind her. It was the monkey!

"Run Kiwi!" she shouted. Maybe the monkey would be too busy with—

"I don't think so, sweetie," the monkey said and—oh no! The monkey had grabbed Kiwi, too!

"Now, you two little brats, I said I was gonna make this nice and painful. Now, lessee, I think I could use a nice fur coat right now..."

She and Kiwi whimpered. The bad monkey was really going to hurt them!

The monkey grinned and dropped her to the ground. She tried to scramble away but the monkey's fat foot stepped down on her. She couldn't escape!

"Now, I think I'll rip that shiny pelt from your face first," the monkey said to Kiwi, "and after that I'll—"

"_FIRE ROCKET_!"

* * *

_Utilizing hit-and-run tactics, I have reduced the number of enemies to ten thousand five hundred in the last thirty minutes. I have actually killed far more than five thousand, but the reinforcements being warped in seemed endless. However, I am satisfied to note that no more warp junctures appear on my sensors. I only have these to deal with. They still number more than the optimum number I would attempt for a direct engagement, however._

_In any case, my dangerous cat-and-mouse game is keeping them occupied. The enemy forces that had threatened KRN and Kilthwani have been eliminated, and she has scrambled aerial transports loaded with _Garm_s and _Skoll_s to aid me. Their ETA is about 143.503 minutes, however; by the time that passes the battle will be decided one way or another._

_I pivot my two aftermost portside infinite repeaters and eliminate a trio of large TyrantKabuterimon with pinpoint accurate hammers of nuclear fury. My BIST cloud indicates that the main force is only two kilometers away._

_I promptly reverse direction, charging the enemy. My main guns thunder, accompanied by the lesser—but still devastating—hammer of my secondary batteries. I launch a salvo of proximity mortar rounds, decimating the heart of the enemy formation. My point defense lasers and gauss cannons tear out specks from the Digimon army. However, it is not all one-way._

_Enemy attacks come sailing towards me, and I jink back and forth, yet the volume is far too heavy for evasive maneuvers to completely counter. My battlescreens fail—again—in a spectacular flash of energy, and again the enemy assaults my warhull directly. My explosive, penetrator-canceling reactive plates are long since gone, and my endurachrome has been taking the brunt of the attacks. In fact, a two-meter wide portion on my left flank, right above my tracks and below my secondary Hellobores, has melted, revealing my flintsteel hull. I have to make special efforts so the enemy does not capitalize on this breach in my defenses. Pain signals screech in my brain more, yet I do not shy away._

_For every scratch the enemy places upon me I take from them with exorbitant interest. Already, my guns have taken a thousand of their number from their ranks._

_However, I have taken noticeable damage. I disengage and lead them away again._

_A lucky shot to my Number One infinite repeater has crippled it by welding one of the rotator cuffs to the mounting. In addition, I detect two more breaches on my endurachrome plating, one near my forward main turret on the right, and another, alarmingly, on my glacis, where my armor is over a meter and a half thick._

_These Digimon are indeed formidable in extreme numbers._

_I conduct a swift ordinance check. My cryogenic vats are rapidly electrolyzing water to form the hydrogen spikes that are the ammunition for my primary and secondary Hellbores. My conventional missiles are down to 37 capacity, and my mortars are nearing 23. My gauss gun ammunition is holding out reasonably well—considering I am using them quite heavily—at 54. The sheer number of Digimon will force me to rely more heavily on my Hellbores and laser clusters, as I will have to save my expendables in the event that I am swarmed._

_Once I am two kilometers from the Digimon—an extremely close distance for my Hellbores, which have line-of-sight range—I open fire again. I have 15.64 seconds, with a deviation of 5.3 percent, before I can be attacked once more. The Digimon reel under my concentrated nuclear-powered salvo. As expected, the gibbering Digimon rush towards me again, as I, the bait, "taunt" them again._

_Suddenly, I detect something, something amid the noisy cacophony of the Digimon. I filter the input from my aural sensors. It is a thoroughly alarming command._

"_Ignore the machine! Assault the city! Kill everyone inside!"_

_With that, the mass of Digimon, which still numbers in excess of seventy-seven thousand, turns away from me and gallop off towards the city._

_I assume a commander—most likely a Mega-level—has assumed command of the rabble. I am unable to pinpoint the source amid the noisy chaos, so I have no hope of targeting the speaker and forcibly rescinding the order. Unfortunate. My scanners indicate that approximately forty-five percent of the mass consists of high-tier Ultimates and Megas._

_It appears I must shift my strategy. I devote a lengthy 4.86 seconds to formulating, analyzing, cross-checking, modifying, and simulating strategies._

_I come up with a dozen. After running several simulations, the most optimistic of those has me with an 88.52—plus-or-minus three percent—probability of completely routing and/or destroying the Digimon forces. However, the same strategy has a 75.49 probability that I will be seriously damaged, with a 43.31 probability of fatal, catastrophic damage._

_As grim as the odds look, and with the very real possibility of my own "death" staring me in the face, I cannot allow the Digimon to enter the city. I am a Bolo. I do not shirk my duties_

_I feed power to my drivetrains and I rumble forward, spitting lances of starfire at the Digimon, gouging out ugly holes in their mass._

* * *

As expected, the fireballs didn't do much more to the MetalEtemon other than make it angry.

At him.

Fla'drek ducked, the cyborg's fist just passing an inch from his face. That had been too clo—

_Wonk_.

Ugh... what had...? He shook his head and looked around. He'd been... he'd flown, hit a building, and blacked out. Now, why would he fly and hit a—

Oh...!

"_Metal Punch_!" the monkey howled and threw another punch. He ducked again.

Damn, that could have taken off his head with—

"Uhn!" he grunted. The viral Mega had slammed a Digizoid-plated foot into his stomach. Flying again.

Impact. Hurts. Dizzy...

"Gotcha again, you little ticks! Think you could run off while your dragon pal distracted me, huh? I'll make it hurt even _more_—"

_Crackcrackcrackcrackcrack_.

What was that sound? It almost sounded like guns...

"Drop her! Drop her!" he heard human voices bark out. He opened his eyes. Hmm... it was still dark. Was he half blind? Oh, wait, that was it. He was buried under a slab of something. Slab. Heh. And his head felt all swirly. Swiiiiiirly.

He watched a bunch of humans and Melconians in futuristic armor take up firing positions.

"Drop her now!"

He watched the other Digimon, holding up a kid in each hand, shrug. "Okay, fine."

The cyborg tossed them to the side. Before the two children had even hit the ground, the soldiers had opened fire. The guns made loud cracking noises, but didn't make any muzzle flash. Hmm, they didn't seem to eject any spent shells, either. Ooh, must be magic weapons. And he still felt dazed. Daaazed.

He heard hissing and zipping, and saw sparks fly from the cyborg's body. Armored with chrome Digizoid, the bullets were probably too soft to effect a good penetration. Or whatever the military-speak for good bullets was.

"Oh, Mother of God!" one of the human soldiers cried. "It's one of the armored ones!"

He heard the MetalEtemon sigh loudly and start towards the men.

"Fireteams Alfa, Bravo, get AP rounds locked in!" the human ordered quickly. Impressive. The man—and the other soldiers, for that matter—weren't panicking at the sight of a Mega walking towards them. Brave. "Ra-kalzin, get a Rod up. Team Delta, powerguns hot! Takaishi, set up the M20!"

And all this time, the soldiers kept on firing at the cyborg, and still the bullets ricocheted off. Oh, hmm, one of the Melconians was unlimbering a long tube that had been strapped to the soldier's back. Wondered what that did?

"I don't think so," the MetalEtemon sneered. The overgrown monkey snapped his fingers, and suddenly, the whole hand was crackling with dark violet electricity.

And then he wasn't dazed anymore. Had to warn them, had to—

"_Dark Spirits DX_!" the Mega yelled, pointing a finger at the squad of soldiers.

And then a stream of dark electricity arced from the cyborg's fingers and played over the soldiers. The troops screamed and convulsed from the shock, and then...

Then it was over. The troops were draped over the wreckage of the city, and they weren't moving.

The killer chuckled, and walked back to where the children were. The Virus picked up the Melconian child.

No! He leaped to his feet, the debris that had been half-burying him flying aside.

"_Fire Rocket_!" Had to be careful with his aim... didn't want to hit the kids...

Luckily, the MetalEtemon had had turned away from him, so his fireballs impacted on the Mega's broad back. Unluckily, the fireballs didn't do a damned thing. The viral Digimon turned his head and looked back at him.

"Are you through? Good." The Virus turned back to the struggling Melconian child. "Now, first the ears..." The Mega grabbed the child's ears. The Melconian whimpered.

No...

He charged. Slammed into the Mega's back—it felt like a brick wall. Knocked it over. Pinned it down on the ground.

Then he started pummeling the monkey. Sparks flew every time he slashed the Mega's body.

"Oh, _please_!" he heard the MetalEtemon spit. He saw a fist draw back...

And then a bomb exploded under his chin. Flying again...

"For goodness sakes, I just want to kill them kids, and I can't even do that in peace."

The kids! He shook his head—again—to clear it. He did a quick check on his body.

Oh, damn it. His gauntlets were shattered, most of the claws snapped off. Well, he'd been raking them full strength into a harder metal, so that was expected, wasn't it? He took his ruined gauntlets off. Oh well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about replacing them, since he was going to die. He took a step forward. By the Sovereigns, why did his feet feel so heavy? Oh, because he was taking on a _Mega_, that's why, and getting knocked all over the place.

His foot brushed against something. What...?

Oh...

* * *

_This is most... difficult. I am completely engaged with the enemy now, literally in their midst. My many Hellbores roar lightning at the enemy, while my missiles and mortars send up packages of death into the sky, to have them crash onto the heads of the savage Digimon. My point defense lasers and gauss cannons send stinging fire into the enemy's midst._

_My battlescreens have already failed, despite the fact my evasive maneuvers have dodged over 33 of the incoming fire. My endurachrome outer skin is tough, yet even now molten patches are appearing here and there. A large breach on my left flank is allowing enemy fire to peck at my flintsteel hull._

_Suddenly, my Number Nine Hellbore infinite repeater goes offline. I run a fast, 0.0005 damage check. One too many lucky shots struck the turret and disabled the traverse actuator._

_My main guns bellow, yet, even as a plasma bolt tears apart the enemy, I feel another hole blown through my endurachrome sheathing. To compound that, enemy fire has reduced the bogeys on my Number Three track assembly to wreckage. I blow the tracks, noting that the blast kills dozens of Digimon that are attempting to get a clawhold on my hull._

_I am now on bare drive wheels. My overall speed will be reduced but I retain full mobility, unhindered by my locked-up track._

_I am wounded, but not defeated. I detect that I have obliterated over half of the enemy Digimon force. As expected, by task is not much easier, as I have killed off mostly Champion and Rookies, while the powerful Ultimates and Megas still attempt to destroy me. I am proud of my heritage as a Mark XXXIV, but over thirty-five hundred powerful enemies can be overwhelming._

_Fortunately, though, the rate that I am reducing the Digimon is proceeding at a rate 9.74 faster than my most optimistic simulation projected. However, on the other hand, I have taken 5.9 more damage than I expected._

_I am doing well._

_I upload a quick tactical update from the command center in Los Santos._

_The soldiers in the city are doing quite well. Most Digimon are susceptible to the normal rounds carried in the human gauss rifles and Melconian needleguns, and when needed, anti-personnel or armor-piercing can be used. Some of the most worrisome threats are being quickly countered, which is a credit to their training. Puppetmon are being set on fire by powerguns, Kuwagamon are taken down with concentrated assault rifle fire, and the occasional flyers are immediately fired upon by smart, shoulder-fired anti-aircraft missiles._

_The occasional Digimon that are armored with chrome Digizoid—a metal which seems to defy spectrographic analyses and elemental table placement—are targeted by hunter-killer teams with 60mm M-308 LAWs loaded with DSFSLRP rounds._

_The M-308 Light Anti-armor Weapon, which can accept most conventional, hypervelocity, and specialty rounds, is a standard multipurpose missile launcher of the EDF. In the urban environment, however, the self-guiding anti-armor Icehawk-4 missiles are switched out in favor of the lower-tech but more reliable DSFSLRP rounds. While a tracking system is lost, the DSFSLRP munition travels far faster than any rocket capable of being fired from the M-308, and is much easier to utilize on the go._

_Also, the DSFSLRP can penetrate up to fifty centimeters of solid durachrome._

_The principal behind the venerable DSFSLRP (discarding sabot, fin-stabilized, long-rod penetrator) light anti-armor weapons is an old one, but effective._

_The shoulder-launched weapon is fired at a target, a swift-burning propellant providing excellent thrust. Upon exiting the muzzle, the sabot, or plastic shoe that keeps the diameter of a smaller round the same as the barrel diameter, falls off, transforming the projectile into a 30mm finned, sharp rod of steel-jacketed tungsten._

_The kinetic energy released when a dense arrow traveling at over 3,250 mps strikes a target can easily defeat most _modern_ armored vehicles, much less these Digizoid-armored invaders. In fact, surveillance footage shows some of the Digimon literally shattering upon impact._

_I see that Fla'drek is engaging a Mega-level MetalEtemon. Using different cameras, I can see that he is defending two children from the enemy Digimon. He is a brave one, to take on an enemy on a much higher power level than his own, but I had no doubt of that. Fla'drek is brave and noble. I would gladly call him a brother._

_I cannot offer any aid to Fla'drek, but I can silently wish him good luck._

_That is all I can do, since I have other, pressing, matters to attend to._

* * *

Cielana's head hurt. A lot. Ouch. Probably because the scary monkey had dropped her and the piece of duracrete had hit her head. Ouch.

The cool armored dragon had helped her and Kiwi, but it didn't look like the dragon was going to win. The monkey's skin wasn't even melted a single bit from the fireballs the dragon was throwing at it.

"Man, a Mega can't even have some fun in this universe without some high-and-mighty knight's lackey giving 'im a hard time," she heard the monkey say. "Oh, well."

And then she saw a bluish blur hit the monkey. It was the dragon!

The dragon and the monkey flew into a faraway house and knocked a big hole in it and fell in. There was dust everywhere, but she heard hitting sounds and grunts coming from inside the damaged house.

"_Metal Punch_!" she heard the voice of the monkey scream, and then there was a sound like when her older brother had dropped a watermelon on the floor.

And then she saw the dragon fly out through the whole and back to where the bad monkey had zapped the soldiers. The monkey came rushing out, too, and ran to where the dragon had hit the ground. A dust cloud kicked up, and she could here more hitting sounds.

And then nothing.

She looked back, and the dragon was lying still. Was the dragon...?

"Okay, brat, I've _finally_ gotten that idiot to quit," the shiny monkey said angrily as it began to walk to her and Kiwi. "Now, I think it's time I got my nice pelt."

"We have to run, Kiwi!" she said urgently to her best friend. Kiwi looked at her, and she looked scared. She looked back at the monkey. It was about twenty meters away from where they were. If they could get a running start...

"Cee! I think I sprained my ankle! I can't run! Go without me!"

"No, Kiwi! I'll carry you."

"No, Cee! He'll catch both of us!"

She looked back again. It was only ten meters away.

"I'm not running away from you, Kiwi."

"Listen, brats, this is cute an' all, but it _would_ be easier if you just stayed put. I don't feel like running no more."

Oh no!

* * *

Had to... fight the pain... the fatigue... and do it...

One step... step by... step...

Reach for the object... Grab it...

Hold onto it... as he got into a kneeling position...

Take one quick look... at the markings...

The soldier who had... used this... had drawn some interesting words, in both... English and some kind of alien script...

_This end towards the poor sucker_... _May the Nameless One take pity on you_...

_60mm M-308 LAW_...

* * *

"Hey, monkey-boy!" Cielana heard a familiar voice say from behind the monkey. The monkey sighed and turned around.

"What now you little..." the monkey's voice trailed off.

She looked past the monkey. It was the dragon, kneeling in the rubble, and he seemed to be hurt very bad. Some kind of mist was wisping out of the cuts and scrapes on the blue skin. Was that how the dragon bled?

"Kids, get down!" she heard the dragon roar.

Huh? Get down? Why should they—oh.

The dragon was holding one of the soldier's weapons to his shoulder.

She quickly pulled Kiwi behind a slab of duracrete and squeezed her eyes shut.

After a thought, she covered her ears, too.

Fla'drek was damned tired, but he had _just enough_ energy to keep the "M-308 LAW" aligned on the cyborg's chest.

"Surprise," he rasped, and squeezed the firing stud.

* * *

_Fla'drek has apparently set a new record for the shortest engagement range with an anti-armor weapon. At a bare 12.34 meters, the DSFSLRP spear had just 2.3 meters more to shed its plastic sabot before the steel-wrapped, tungsten rod slams into the MetalEtemon._

_The results are spectacular. The long-rod penetrator literally shatters the enemy Digimon in half, everything from the upper thighs to the lower chest fragmented into rapidly dissolving metal chunks._

_The upper half of the sundered Digimon thuds into the ground, twitches twice, and then dissolves._

_It did not even have time to make a scream._

_Pain. I feel my Number Twelve infinite repeater go offline, as well as my rear primary turret. While I have reduced the enemy Digimon to a bare three thousand, I have taken heavy damage. Endurachrome plate integrity is reduced to 63.67 percent, and another of my tracks, Unit One, has been knocked out, further limiting my mobility._

_I keep my drive trains at full power, and most attacks actually miss, despite my immense bulk. My own drives make their own causalities as I mulch slow Digimon into dissolving paste._

_The barrel of my primary forward Hellbore is nearly white-hot, and I must reduce firing for a minute or so as liquid nitrogen is pumped into veins in the barrel to cool it down. My secondary Hellbores, however, are firing at full rate, slamming white-hot plasma into the enemy. My mortars are firing at variable trajectories, either flat or high, and my missiles arc into the sky before they slam back to earth, gouging out enemies with every impact._

_Another infinite repeater goes offline, Number Three._

_Despite the risks, I resume full firing rate with my primary 200cm Hellbore._

_Starfire incinerates more and more of the Digimon with each hellish touch. The resumption of main battery fire tears out massive chunks of the enemy army. I swivel about and accelerate, running down a pack of SkullGreymon that were attempting to enter firing positions. I swing my infinite repeaters skywards and pluck a dozen TyrantKabuterimon and GranKuwagamon with a swift, accurate volley. My gauss guns and laser clusters make mincemeat of any Digimon lucky enough to avoid my Hellbores._

_I take more damage. The breach on my forward section has taken more enemy fire, and the flintsteel hull is dangerously close to melting through. Molten endurachrome weeps like tears down my hull, and I feel yet another secondary turret go offline._

_However, I detect that the number of enemy Digimon has dropped below one thousand._

_Nine hundred. Two of my overheated mortars jam. I redirect ammunition to working tubes._

_Seven hundred. I have run out of missiles._

_Five hundred. I initiate shutdown on my surviving primary Hellbore to prevent it from melting._

_Three hundred. Mega-levels are all that remain. The seethe below my and dance above me, slamming attack after attack into my battered hull. Multiple armor breeches. I feel pain, yet it does nothing more than motivate me._

_Two hundred. Three more infinite repeaters go offline. I have a mere four more. One of my missile magazines explodes, causing damage before the explosion can be redirected through blast-venting portals._

_One hundred. I slam volley after Hellbore volley into the gibbering mass. They return in kind, and I burn._

_Silence._

_I have completely destroyed the swarm of Digimon that had once numbered fifteen hundred strong._

* * *

Ooh, his head...

Fla'drek opened his eyes. White lights.

White lights?

He shook his head and blinked. His vision cleared and he saw... uh...

A hospital room? This might be some kind of alternate dimension, but it looked like all hospitals were sterile white, no matter what dimension they came from.

He shifted his head. His armor was on a table next to a wall, and it looked... polished? Nice surprise. And where those... medals? Oh, goodness.

He shifted again. Ah, this was a very comfortable pillow. And the bedsheets were actually quite warm and...

"Kiwi! Fla'drek's awake!" he heard a voice squeak from beside him. Huh? What was "Kiwi"?

Oh, yeah, one of the kids he'd saved. After blowing the MetalEtemon to bits, he'd lost consciousness.

He looked to where the voice had spoken. It was a little human girl, plus a Melconian pup. They were both leaning on the bed and smiling at him. He heard shuffling coming from behind the doorway where the children had been sitting. Some kind of doctor entered.

"Hey," he said. Ugh, his voice sounded raspy. And it felt worse. "How long have I been..."

"About thirty-six hours, Mr. Fla'drek," said the doctor. "It was a bit touch-and-go to get you out of crisis, but apparently your biology is similar enough that we could keep you stable.

"And, by the way, thank you for saving my niece."

Niece? Was...? Hmm, now that he looked for it, yes, the doctor had a resemblance to Cee.

"My job," he coughed. Wait, hold a moment... "How do you know my name?"

"Jarrod told us."

Jarrod... oh! "What happened to him. Did he...?"

"I'm no Bolo technician, but I understand Jarrod took heavy damage, but he survived. The other Digimon—"

"The other Digimon got blown to smithereens!" he heard Cee pipe up. "You and Jarrod and Karen really beat 'em up good."

He saw the doctor beam at the little girl. "In a nutshell, yes, you 'beat 'em up good.'"

He nodded tiredly.

"Mr. Fla'drek?" he heard a halting voice say. It was the pup. "I am sorry, my Terran good is not. But I to thank you would like for from the Digimon saving us."

"My job, sweetie," he said, grinning weakly.

"Still, thank you, Mr. Fla'drek!" he heard Cee say. "Oh, I almost forgot. I think Jarrod wants to talk to you."

The Bolo? How could it talk to him? It was probably bigger than this hospital!

"Here you go!" Cee chimed, and handed him a small device. "Talk into it."

Er, okay... "Hello?"

* * *

_I am delighted to hear the voice of Fla'drek again. For the last 2879.23 minutes, I have hoped to speak with the Flamedramon again. He is no Bolo, but his warrior spirit is similar to my own and to that of my human and Melconian friends. I respect that._

"_Greetings, Fla'drek. I am glad that you survived."_

"_Uh, yeah. I'm glad that you pulled through, too. Er, where are you?"_

"_I am in a Bolo maintenance bay, where technicians and Karen's drones are repairing me."_

"_Ah."_

_There is a prolonged moment of silence. It appears that Fla'drek is at a loss for words._

_I ask myself how one _could_ react in this situation._

"_Fla'drek, thank you for your help. You were right, many people would have died if it were not for you."_

"_I do what I can," the Digimon says, and laughs. "But when you think about it, you were the one—"_

_I detect an anomaly, identical to the one that brought Fla'drek to this world. And, though the range is extreme, my sensors tell me the gate is centered on... Fla'drek._

* * *

"Oh, this is unexpected," Fla'drek said in surprise. His body was suddenly... glowing.

"I have detected a quantum anomaly within your immediate vicinity, Fla'drek. What is happening?"

To be honest, he didn't have a clue. "I'm glowing all of a sudden."

"The signature is identical to the one that brought you to this world. I cannot find a source for the anomaly."

Oh great, with his luck another Vilemon would... Hold on, _identical_? "Wait, do you mean...?"

"Perhaps this is a way of transporting you to your own world. I do not know, I can only hypothesize."

"Hypothesis" or not, it made a certain amount of sense. Of course, he could just be agreeing because the room seemed to be glowing very white and—

* * *

_There is an energetic burst of quantum particles from Fla'drek, and then nothing._

_I hastily take control of some monitoring cameras in Fla'drek's room. I pan across the span of the room, and I find nothing except for the two children and the doctor._

_Fla'drek is gone. To where, I can only guess._

"_Where did he go, Jarrod?" I hear the Melconian pup, Kiweedhar, ask._

"_I do not know."_

"_Is he all right?" This from the human girl, Cielana._

_I ponder that question. I know not where Fla'drek has been whisked off to. I know not what dangers he will face, what battles he will fight, what endeavors he will undertake. I know not whom he will meet, who he will save, who he will fight._

_But, deep down in what a human would call his "heart", I know Fla'drek will perform whatever duty he has with honor and bravery that is befitting of the most honored Bolo unit._

"_Yes," I reply "yes, I think he is."_

* * *

Had it been just a dream?

Fla'drek rubbed his head and got up from his bed. He looked himself over. No armor.

Oh, that was right, he'd been cleaning it. Maybe he'd fallen asleep?

He reached over and lifted up his cuirass. Better get polishing ag—

And stopped.

Under it were several small, shiny medals.

No, it had been a dream, right? There was an explanation to this, right? Maybe Lord Magnamon had given him this for something sometime again.

But that didn't seem right.

He gingerly picked one up and looked it over.

He felt... stunned. It was a symbol of a hammer striking an anvil made of lightning bolts. And it read...

_The Cross of Terra is awarded to Fla_'_drek_,_ for astounding bravery and selflessness that saved many civilian lives during the Battle of Los Santos_.

_New Dinochrome Brigrade_, _131st Bolo Division, Esperanza Defense Command_.


End file.
